Barry Longyear - Enemy Papers

That night she awakened; the edges of some dream-sired horror still touching her; Mallik’s name still on her lips. There was a sound from the corridor-boots moving against the stone floor; then the boots moving slowly away. On her bed with all doors closed, Nicole breathed easily and allowed her thoughts to move at their own initiative. And as Eam’s thoughts spoke to it of the eventual end of life upon the planet Sindie, Nicole’s thoughts spoke to her.

There was a fierce, lonely ache in her body. When she recognized that the ache was for Mallik, she shut it off. Other things… there were other things to think about.

Tora Soam’s dinner party game. It had been a disaster. A human of similar rank, entertaining a roomful of equivalent human brass, would have been mortified. The guests would have been mortified as well. But as Baadek was leading her away, Nicole could hear the Dracs renewing the conversation in amiable, unconcerned voices.

They were discussing the game, the game, much as, in the past, Nicole had seen humans chewing over a bridge or poker hand that had been completed. That was some sort of danger signal to her, because they were not humans; and they were not playing games.

But the… alienness of those creatures is the thing that keeps escaping me. They could be human.

Baadek had left Nicole at her door to return to the corridor and drive Benbo and Mitzak to their quarters. She would have liked to have talked with them more; but when she wanted the peace of her apartments, she reached out and called for Baadek.

Why?

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Ever since her lights had been extinguished, she had been categorizing her experiences with the Dracs into analogs with humans.

Vencha Eban, the Drac who cleaned the floors at the Chirn Kovah. It made no difference that it was a Drac and that I knew it was a Drac; I always think of Vencha as "the cleaning lady." Eban is a simple, hardworking, "Maggie the Mop."

Baadek, the long-suffering family retainer. In my mind Baadek is every bit the comedic representation of the ex-slave running down the dirt road, tears in his eyes, blubbering his welcome as massa done come home fum de wawh.

"Dammit, and what is Tora Soam?"

The darkness around her absorbed the question, letting her see the answer. Mallik’s father, Eliem Nicole. Ever since she could remember, Eliem Nicole was the fishing village of Kidege’s sole lawyer. Quiet and thoughtful, it was a rare problem of any size in the town that didn’t eventually find its resolution on Eliem Nicole’s desk.

More often than not, the problem’s resolution cost the bearer nothing. And everyone knew that Eliem was no altruist; he did it for the sake of the problem. And he had taught her his fascination with problems-with the abstract problem of problems.

Long before he was appointed to the Baina Ya bench, the people of Kidege addressed Eliem Nicole as "Judge." And Tora Soam was Judge Nicole with a strange voice; a voice that was becoming less strange as the seconds passed.

The high-ranking Dracs that had been on the other side of the table sat in her mind as any greying, overweight collection of human officials would. Zigh Caida, the First Deputy of the Chamber, even had a face fixed in her mind. She thought for a long time, and then remembered: it was the Vice-commander of Storm Mountain, General Dell’s, face. Kindly, old General Dell.

Morio used to say that the General had adopted himself as my father. In a way, it had been true.

She shook her head and moved to the edge of the sleeping platform. She felt as though she were in the center of an enormous puzzle; a game with no rules, no objectives, no purpose. Lita teasing its students with its "I win" game; caught in the web of an unknown logos. And her mind felt the need of a purpose; a need to know the rules.

"Well, Nicole, you know at least one thing: these creatures are Dracs, not humans." The knotting in her gut as she made that statement told her more: they were not friends; they were deadly enemies.

If I could just see! Damn it, if I could just see!

She touched the edge of that well of self-pity, and backed away from it. And, from the pages of the Talman, Namvaac spoke to her.

And the student said to Namvaac, "Jetah, the darkness covers all the Universe. It is such an all-powerful evil, I feel so small and helpless within it. Next to this darkness, the black of death seems so bright."

Namvaac studied the hooked blade, then handed it back to the student. "Where you are now, child, Tochalla has been before you. It, too, was in darkness. It, too, had a knife. But Tochalla also had talma."

She sat straight up and strained her ears as a slight difference in sound touched the air. She turned her head right, then left, trying fruitlessly to determine the direction from which the sound was coming. Because of the curved, sound-absorbing walls of the sleeping room, the sound appeared to come from all directions.

Nicole pushed herself up, felt her way to the sleeping room door, and opened it. The sounds became slightly louder-something between glass air chimes and a guitar.

Music. The notes appeared to follow no familiar pattern. It was an incomprehensible wandering through minor scales. Sad, lonely wandering.

She pressed the control that opened all of the doors, then felt her way to the apartment entrance. The sounds came from her left. She hesitated. She had never been down that part of the corridor.

Nicole placed her left hand against the stones of the corridor wall and began feeling her way toward the sounds. As she walked along, several times the playing stopped, then resumed with a different but equally incomprehensible tune. She followed the sounds until the acoustic response to the instrument told her that she was across the corridor from a large, high-ceilinged chamber. She entered the room, leaned against the wall, and listened.

The music took on a mournful, haunting quality; and she let herself open to it devoid of comparisons or preconceptions. Then the music spoke to her, calling up familiar but strangely combined emotions. The music stopped, but Nicole let the memory of the dying notes stroke her thoughts.

"Who is that? Speak?" The voice was Tora Kia’s.

"Can you not see me, Tora Kia?"

"No. The chamber is dark. What do you want?"

"I heard you playing. I thought you could no longer play… because of your arm."

"I can still play with the other."

There was movement, then steps coming toward her. She tensed, but Kia only took her by her arm and led her toward a couch. Nicole sat down and listened as the Drac moved away and again took up its instrument and played an odd assortment of notes. The playing stopped. "In your apartment, Joanne Nicole, I heard you cry out."

"It was nothing but a dream."

"Baadek told me that you did not speak to my parent about what happened in the car. I should thank you."

"I kept silent more for Baadek’s sake than for yours, Kia."

A quiet laugh. "Of Course. Still, I apologize for my actions and thank you for yours."

She remained silent and Kia again began playing its instrument. The sounds were alien, but the instrument was the tidna: a harp with strings made of glass. But the music was different for another, indefinable reason. She let her head fall back upon the couch and listened, allowing the peculiar musical phrases to occupy her awareness. The music changed slightly, and, the patterns became something she could identify-feel familiar with.

"Kia, what is that?"

The music stopped. "A composition of my own. I wrote it upon Amadeen. Does it speak to you?"

"It incorporates human music; human themes. I recognize them."